again, from whence it late had arisen!"

The rich collection he had amassed for this History of the American Revolution, carefully arranged and bound in volumes, was bequeathed to his son, ultimately to pass to the Library of Harvard University. I understand his heir has already discharged the trust by depositing these treasures in the institution where their collector designed they should be permanently preserved.

Although the life of Mr. Sparks as an author may be said to have terminated with his last original publications, he, nevertheless, did not withhold himself from an active interest in the cause of letters. He had been appointed McLean Professor of Ancient and Modern History at Cambridge, in 1839; and for the ten following years, in the midst of other work, performed the duties of that chair, until, on the resignation of President Edward Everett, his alma mater bestowed her highest honor by electing him President of Harvard. This was the finale of a career of successful labor extending through thirty-eight years. His Presidency was acceptable as well as popular; especially commanding the confidence and affectionate respect of the pupils. He was no martinet, but fostered the manhood of the generation entrusted to his government. A friend who was present in Cambridge, and well acquainted with Mr. Sparks's administration of the Presidency, tells me that its peculiarity was the parental character of his intercourse with the under-graduates. After the stateliness of some of his predecessors, this bland demeanor of the new President alarmed by its supposed relaxation of a discipline which the over-nice are accustomed to enforce by a stern preservation of cold formality; yet, even the critics who considered him a little slack, did not fail to see that he won the love of all, while many a poor fellow in disgrace felt quite inclined to bless a rod which fell in such sweet mercy.[2]

For three years, the successor of Kirkland, Quincy, and Everett held the responsible Presidency; nor, in all that period of watchfulness, did he ever forget or neglect the striving, indigent students, who required a helping hand in the days of their adversity. His works had made him independent in fortune, so that, wherever assistance was needed, his was an open but judicious hand. "In the days of his prosperity," it is said by one who knew him well, "he returned to his original benefactors not only the money he had received from them, but more than the interest." On resigning the Presidency of Harvard he retired to the property he owned in Cambridge, where, in the enjoyment of society, of favorite studies, and of a large correspondence and intercourse with friends and distinguished strangers, he passed the remaining years of a tranquil life, which ended, after a short and painless malady, on the 14th of March, 1866, in the seventy-seventh year of his age. The summons to eternity was sudden; but the faith and the life of the veteran sustained him to the close. As he was consciously approaching it, "I think," said he, feebly, "I shall not recover, but I am happy." And when asked whether he was rightly understood as saying he was "happy," his answer was, "certainly!"

Mr. Sparks was twice married; first, in 1832, to Frances Anne Allen, of Hyde Park, New York, who died in 1835; and again, in 1839, to Mary C. Silsbee, daughter of Nathaniel Silsbee, a wealthy and honored merchant of Salem, for many years a Senator of the United States from Massachusetts, as colleague of Daniel Webster. Four children, a son and three daughters, all the offspring of the second marriage, survive, with their mother, to rejoice in the memory of their illustrious father.

The amount of Mr. Sparks's literary labor and its popular estimation, maybe judged from the fact that more than six hundred thousand volumes of his various publications have been published and disposed of.

In personal appearance Mr. Sparks had a noble presence, a firm, bold, massive head, which, as age crept on, sometimes seemed careworn and impassive; but never lost its intellectual power. His portraits show that in his prime his face was remarkable for dignified, manly beauty. His manners were winning; and, though undemonstrative and rather reticent among strangers, with friends, he was always cheerful and hearty. He was never dogmatic, patronizing or repulsive, by that self-assertion into which superior men are too often petted by the subservient deference of society. He had large social resources, but, withal, was modest without being shy. His character was, indeed, a perfect balance of charming qualities. Though moderate in the announcement of opinions, and too patriotic to degenerate into a partizan, he gave no timid, lukewarm support to the nation in its hour of trial. His knowledge of the world was ample; but that excellent lore did not always save him from the overreaching, so that, at one time, he lost much of the hard-earned avails of his labors, and though not impoverished, was uncomfortably straitened. Yet, he loved to be trustful and serviceable; and, what he knew, he gave cordially to friends, correspondents, and respectful strangers who approached him properly. He desired to stimulate the young by truthful approbation, and, from his recognized eminence, to bestow the "nutritious praise of veteran talent." He was never spoken of lightly. Large and active as was his mind, "his heart," unlike Fontenelle's, was not "made of his brains." He was as pure, affectionate, and charitable a man in all his relations, as he was eminent in the literature he created and consecrated to his country.

An author's life is commonly a catalogue of his works. The career of a scholar is generally uneventful, seldom possessing those stirring traits which give dramatic interest to public characters of less quiet pursuits. Mr. Sparks was not an exception to this rule. His life is in his works; for, as long as he could work well he was a worker for his country.

The few and simple facts I have told of this gentle student's struggles and success, show that his labors were mostly in the field of History. But, the field of History is large and sub-divided. It comprehends Annals, Chronicles, Memoirs, Biography; and these—the essence of the past—become the elements from which an artist endowed with disciplined judgment and combining imagination, shapes the master-pieces which are properly called by the generic name, History.

It has been usual to associate the name of Mr. Sparks with those of Bancroft, Prescott, Motley, and Irving; yet, the qualities of these writers, as well as the tasks they set themselves, seem to me quite different from those of our late associate.

If History may be properly defined, as I think it should be—a narrative of national life, claiming the utmost comprehension of fact, date, description, biography, annals, and chronicle, woven together with brilliant analysis and wholesome philosophy,—I hope I may not be considered unjust in the opinion that, as yet, our country has but one writer who will be classed with Hume and Gibbon. This is certainly no disparagement of others, for it is, probably, the result of extent of aim rather than of quality or power. No American, of acknowledged superiority, has yet equalled George Bancroft in the breadth of his theme, the extent of time and place covered, the variety of character, circumstance, and nationality concerned, the corresponding research, the sparkling story, and the philosophic